Faith Enough For Two
by LuteofLorien
Summary: The Ring War has been won, the Third Age has come to an end and Elrond must accept that it is his time to leave at last. As he comes to terms with the uncertainty of what might await him and the enormity of what he leaves behind, his seneschal comes to a realisation of his own…


**Elrond. Glorfindel. A balcony. Some mist. ANGST. Need I say more?**

 **(Actually, I do need to say more. Namely that I do not own Middle Earth or any of the Elves, and hence all of the Peredhel family trauma explored here is NOT MY FAULT. Blame Professor Tolkien for any resulting heartbreak *sobs*)**

 **(And another thing. Ink Stained Quill, beta extraordinaire, you are incredible, thanks for your help with this!)**

Faith Enough For Two

 _And I will have missed you growing, And I'll have missed you crying, And I'll have missed you laugh. Missed your stomping and your shouting, I'll have missed telling you off, But please… Know that I was always there. I was with you through everything. (The Letter, Billy Elliot)_

 _Now boy, it's true, feel the knowing inside of you, a_ _growing sense that soon you'll return._  
 _Now boy, it's true, there's a voice here that's guiding you, y_ _our choice to wait, to listen & learn._  
 _Makes no sense, don't ask why, c_ _an't explain, can't even try, b_ _ut you know it's true._  
 _And when you do, she'll be waiting,_  
 _Be waiting for you._ _(Waiting For You, The Water Babies)_

* * *

"I've been thinking," Elrond declared suddenly.

He was standing on the balcony of his study looking out over Imladris, soon after their return from the coronation and wedding in Minas Tirith. Glorfindel, worried about his lord who seemed increasingly distant after his parting from Arwen, was standing a respectful few paces behind him. They had both been there for some time: Elrond aware of Glorfindel's presence but not acknowledging it, Glorfindel simply waiting in case his lord decided to talk. The sudden outburst took the latter slightly by surprise and he opted to try to lighten the mood.

" _Elbereth forbid,_ Elrond, that's a dangerous activity! Wars start when you do that!"

Elrond twisted around to look at Glorfindel, attempting a smile but producing something more akin to a pained grimace. Seeing his attempt at levity fall flat on its face, Glorfindel stepped forward to take up a position beside his friend on the balcony.

"Of what were you thinking?" he said more seriously.

"Of the future." Elrond did not elaborate further for some time, simply continuing to gaze into the mists that were shrouding the eastern end of Imladris on this autumn morning. Glorfindel waited patiently, knowing that more would be forthcoming if, and only if, Elrond decided to confess it. Besides, the enigmatic response had set him thinking about his own dilemmas over his place and role in the coming years. After a while, Elrond looked up sharply and caught Glorfindel's eye, catching his seneschal off guard with the intensity in his expression.

"I was thinking, perhaps it would not be so terrible if I were to delay sailing for a short while. What say you?"

Glorfindel did all he could to mask his shock at this sudden desire to remain in Middle Earth, but did not entirely succeed, since Elrond had not expressed any such feelings before and preparations were already being made for their departure. He answered carefully, unsure if there was something else behind this,

"Of course you have every right to change your plans if you wish to, but this seems a little sudden. I would be curious to know why you are thinking thus."

Elrond was silent again, breaking his intense stare and focusing on the valley once more. When he spoke, this time he did not look at Glorfindel, and his tone was curiously detached.

"I knew none of my grandparents. My mother's parents were slain along with her siblings, and my father's sailed before I could meet them."

Glorfindel knew this, and simply nodded, aware that Elrond would not appreciate sympathy, although he yearned to give it. His mind sifted through the different possibilities, trying to connect this statement to the current discussion, and a suspicion began to grow about what had prompted this line of thought. He waited for Elrond to continue, hoping with all his heart that he was wrong. He squeezed his eyes shut as Elrond's next words confirmed his suspicions.

"Arwen and I have both Seen a child. A son. We both sense that it will not be long even in mortal years. So perhaps, if I could wait just a little longer, I could hold my grandson, even if it is only once." The detachment in his tone began to give way to desperation. "Just once, so that he may know the safety of a grandparent's arms. As it is, I am his only remaining grandparent, so surely this is something I must do." His voice trailed off into a whisper. "So that, even if he does not remember, he may know in his heart that his elders did not willingly abandon him."

Glorfindel did not answer for a long time, knowing that Elrond needed a little space after baring his soul in such a manner, and needing time to think himself; this conversation was too important to get wrong. More than anything, Glorfindel wished to assent to Elrond's suggestion of sailing at a later time and to begin at that very moment changing the plans for departure. Elrond wanted to meet his grandchild, bond with him and protect him - what could be a purer or more natural feeling? And the situation was complicated by Elrond's own childhood and the alarming number of parental figures and guardians he had lost; he wanted better for his own offspring and their children, as he always had. And who was Glorfindel to deny him that?

And yet, Glorfindel realised, his stomach clenching painfully, that was exactly what he had to do. It was clear that the accumulated grief of the Ages was coalescing around Elrond like a shroud that was smothering his light. He was weary of Arda, longing for Celebrían more than ever, and he needed to sail to find healing. That, at least, was beyond doubt. Fading was a real danger, if he stayed, and even if he could last until Arwen's first child, it would be doubly hard for him to go, especially if the child formed an attachment to him. Elrond had to sail now, or he never would. In his heart, Glorfindel knew this. Moreover, he suspected that Elrond knew this too. That was where the desperation in his expression stemmed from: his paternal heart was rebelling against what he had to do, and this suggestion of sailing later was his last defence against the inevitable. Now he had practically invited Glorfindel to tear it down; he was asking for help to accept the unacceptable. Help that Glorfindel would give his friend- _ai,_ but by the Valar, he wished that he did not have to.

"This child will have Arwen and Aragorn for parents," he said at last, trying to allay Elrond's fears for his future grandson before moving onto the trickier ground of Elrond's own feelings. "He will never know abandonment." _Such as you have experienced,_ Glorfindel added silently, but the unspoken phrase was as loud as a gong between the two friends.

"They will make wonderful parents," Elrond admitted, before moving onto the heart of the matter. "And I want to see that. Is that so very wrong? I want to look upon my children and be proud of how much they have grown, that now they are ready to be responsible for a child of their own. I want to watch Arwen hold her babe and see how the tenderness in her heart blossoms into something yet more beautiful with motherhood. I want to share that moment with Estel when he realises that he would do absolutely anything to protect his son, and then he looks at me and reminisces about all the times I held him back from dangerous patrols, and we both smile because now he _understands._ They are going to enjoy the greatest blessing the Valar can bestow, with all its associated joys and trials, and I wish to be there with them. How can that be wrong?"

Elrond's gaze held a challenge in it now, and its full force was directed towards Glorfindel, as if Elrond were daring him to condemn what he felt. It took all Glorfindel's legendary courage to meet that gaze steadily, and not to look away.

"It is not wrong," he stated calmly. "Valar, there few things more _right_ than to feel thus about one's children. It is not wrong." The look of wild hope in Elrond's eyes at these words this nearly overcame Glorfindel's resolve, so loath was he to extinguish it. But for his friend's sake, he continued, hating himself more than he thought possible for the next words that came out of his mouth,

"But it is impossible."

"Why?" Elrond cried, his emotional barriers lowered enough now for his distress to be audible in his voice. "Why is it impossible? I _would_ sail eventually, you know I would never abandon Celebrían. I am not so weak that I will fade within a few years of mortal reckoning. Surely it cannot hurt to wait just a little longer, when the reward of doing so would be to meet my grandchild."

"I doubt not that you could stay long enough to welcome your grandchild, if that is what you truly set your heart on doing," Glorfindel replied evenly. "What I doubt, my friend, is whether you would then be able to leave."

Elrond turned away, hiding his expression, and Glorfindel knew that he had hit the crux of the matter, that Elrond could not argue against this because in his heart he knew it too. Feeling the anguish of the surgeon who must inflict pain in order to remedy it, Glorfindel pressed on.

"Elrond, the last time you parted from Arwen it nearly broke you both." Elrond physically flinched, and Glorfindel forced himself not to think about that as he continued. "For both your sakes, you cannot go through that again. And imagine how much worse it would be if this time you were also parting from your grandson whom you had only just met. You are strong in all senses of the word, my friend, but there are limits. And for Arwen, to have you back for a little while only to lose you again; I do not seriously think that you wish to inflict that upon her."

"No, of course I do not, but would it not be worth it? She would have her young child to anchor her here, and she would not need me when she has Estel. She would not feel my loss so very deeply, and I would bear it. And…ai, my friend, you will laugh at this old fool when I tell you this."

"I doubt I could find anything amusing about a situation that causes you such pain. Try me."

"I want to be able to tell Cel about him," he admitted at last in a small voice, still not meeting Glorfindel's eyes. "I want to meet our grandson, so that I can share that joy with her when we reach Valinor. Perhaps that will soften the blow when she learns of Arwen's choice, if she can know for certain that Arwen has the happiness of being a mother. It would be like my gift to her, if I could describe every inch of him, tell her what it's like to see the three of them together as a family, share the stories so she can imagine she was there, as she should have been had the world been less cruel. I know it would hurt to leave again, but if it means I could do that for her, there is little I would not endure."

Glorfindel had no words. There were none. He had great respect for the Valar who had sent him back to Middle Earth, but sometimes he found that he really did not understand them. What on earth had this family done to deserve so much torment and so many agonising choices? He could not answer that question, nor make the terrible situation go away, so he simply pulled the slightly startled Elf Lord into a hug, trying to pour into this gesture all his love and his desire to protect his friend from the awful choice he had to make.

The loss of Celebrían, the grief-hardened hearts of Elladan and Elrohir, the encroaching darkness of Mordor and the ensuing war, and his countless duties as Master of Imladris had built up in layer upon layer like a burden weighing down on Elrond. Glorfindel was struck more than ever by how long it had been since he remembered Elrond giving in to true sentiment. When was his last drunken laugh, head tossed back in abandon while supporting an equally woozy and - Valar-forbid _giggling!_ – Erestor? When had he last erupted in anger, instead of channelling his frustrations into coolly tactical manoeuvers? Over the past decades of growing darkness Elrond had retreated further and further into himself, forcing that stony look over his face all too often. When Arwen had left for Lothlorien, Glorfindel had been hoping for at least a conversation but each of his increasingly not-so-subtle hints had simply been rebuffed. Even his trusty 'your commanding officer directs you to speak,' tactic had been met by a rant about Imladris' defences rather than what they both knew was the real issue. Elrond had been a rock for Estel through the turmoil of learning of his true parentage, supported him through the turbulent time of uncertainty over his identity, and sent him off to the Dúnedain with the spark of steady confidence that would one day grow into kingly dignity. At the time, everyone had been so overjoyed at the fact that the Dúnedain were gaining a Chieftain and Gondor was gaining a future king, that no-one had really addressed the fact that in some senses, Elrond was losing a son. Glorfindel didn't really know what he was expecting Elrond to do after Estel's departure, but the piles upon piles of war research he received from Elrond's study in the weeks after suggested that his chosen method of coping consisted largely of ignoring it. Every time since then that Glorfindel had attempted to talk through Elrond's hopes and fears for his family, he had always been deflected, somehow, into talking of hopes and fears for Middle Earth instead.

Finally, now that his burden had been lifted from his shoulders, how could he have imagined that Elrond could sail in peace? Elrond, who felt so deeply and who had suffered so much separation, could never quietly, calmly leave behind his sons, daughters, adopted son, and potential family. Not now that he could finally be free to love them without fearing for their lives.

Elrond stiffened slightly as Glorfindel reached towards him, but quickly relaxed into the embrace and allowed himself to be comforted by the feel of his friend's protective arms around him. He knew that Glorfindel could not protect him from the hurt in his heart, but he also knew that his friend would if he could, and that was enough. They stayed like that for a while, sheltering in each other's arms for a short moment from the world of crumbling Elven realms and sundered families. But the moment had to end, and it was Elrond who drew back a little, and he took his turn at trying to lighten the mood.

"I must say, I am honoured, my friend. You only do this about once every _yén,_ do you not?"

"Only when it matters," Glorfindel whispered, pulling Elrond to rest against him for a few more moments before they both had to face the painful truths the rest of their discussion would unearth.

Eventually they pulled apart, and Glorfindel fixed Elrond with a keen stare.

"I do not think that you are truly asking me to advise you on when to sail."

"Oh? And what gives you that impression?"

"Your wisdom. That same wisdom that made you part with Arwen in Rohan knowing that it was the last time. You are wise enough to know your own heart and mind, Elrond, and you know what you must do. If you had truly changed your mind and decided to sail later, I would not be able to sway you, no matter my own opinions on the matter. But I do not think you are seriously entertaining the idea, are you?"

"It is tempting, I must admit, to give in to the desire to linger to meet my grandson. But nay, it is merely a fantasy, nothing more. I am convinced in my mind that it is impossible. It is just the small matter of persuading my heart…"

"I see. So you do not need me to tell you when you should sail, for you already know. But that knowledge is a bitter cup to drink, so what you ask of me is to hold it to your lips, in effect, force you to take it if necessary, so that you might accept what must be done. Am I right?"

Elrond heaved a great sigh. "Aye. You read me disconcertingly well, old friend." he murmured. "Ironic, is it not? The healer who has doled out so many bitter concoctions, now afraid to drink his own."

"There is not a being in Arda who would not baulk at the parting you now face. Do not be so hard on yourself."

"But I must be, Glorfindel, for how else will I find the strength needed to do this? It would be so easy to stay just until the birth, just so I have something to take back to Celebrían."

"But that is the catch, is it not? For if you were to stay, you would not make it back to her at all."

"Of course I would! I promised I would find her, and I would not break my word!"

"Not willingly, no. But you would put yourself in a position where you would be torn in two, forced to choose between your daughter, foster son and grandson, or your wife. And once you begin to fade, the decision may be taken out of your hands and they might all lose you. I would not wish that fate on my worst enemy, let alone my best friend."

Elrond's defences were crumbling now, and there was little conviction in his arguments: they simply served as hastily erected shields against the truth that he knew but did not want to accept. And just as Elrond needed him to, Glorfindel was methodically tearing those shields down.

"But surely, just until the birth cannot hurt? The boy need not attach to me, all I want is to hold him once." It was clear from Elrond's tone that even he knew this was futile, but Glorfindel addressed it all the same.

"Just until the birth cannot hurt? Perhaps it can, more than you think, but even if not, what then? You will want to stay for his first smile, his first word, his first steps, his first lessons- after all, it is only a short time in the life of the Eldar, and sailing can wait a little longer. And the first time he calls you _Daeradar,_ it will be a death sentence."

Elrond whirled around to face him directly, clearly about to protest, but Glorfindel spoke quickly, his voice low and deadly serious. "It will be a death sentence, because the first time he calls you _Daeradar_ you will be utterly undone, and you will not find it in yourself to leave him when he is too young to understand why you must do so, not when you yourself know the pain of being left thus. You will fade on these shores because you cannot bring yourself to leave him voluntarily, though in the end the outcome will be the same. And then I will have to go to Aman and tell Celebrían that her husband has faded. For her sake, for yours, and for mine, I cannot let you do that."

Elrond was staring at him, stricken, breathing quickly and audibly, his face pale.

"That was a low blow, Glorfindel," he growled, turning back to grasp the railing so hard his knuckles turned white, the tension visible in his shoulders. Glorfindel let him have his anger for a while but spoke at last when he deemed it safe to do so.

"A low blow indeed, but is it true do you think? Was it necessary?"

Elrond's shoulders slumped.

"Aye," he whispered. "To both."

Glorfindel longed to reach out a hand in comfort, but he knew that this was not what Elrond needed at that moment and he would probably be shrugged off. They were so close to acceptance now, and though he hated to push Elrond further, Glorfindel steeled himself to do what was needful.

"Elrond, if you do not sail now, you never will."

"Aye. I know."

"Do you really, though? Do you yet think that it would be possible for you to go back to Arwen, meet your grandson, and then leave them to sail to your wife?"

"I could…force myself to be strong enough to do it."

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you could. But I think you know yourself better than that."

Elrond sighed heavily. "Aye. You are right. I know that I would not have it in me to part with them, and thus I would condemn myself to fading and those I love to more pain. It was a foolish wish, a childish dream of trying to make everything right, nothing more."

"It was not a foolish thing to yearn for," Glorfindel said sadly. "But it cannot be."

"I do understand that. I was never really planning to do such a thing…I just wish I could have done. But in the way of things as they are, it is impossible."

"Aye, you are right. So will you sail with Mithrandir and Galadriel?"

"Aye."

"Without attempting to wait for the birth of your grandchild?"

"Aye! You win! I will go West!" Elrond snapped, but after these words were uttered the fight seemed to drain out of him, leaving only grief and resignation.

"I will sail, and I will be sundered from Arwen and Estel until the breaking of the world and perhaps beyond. I will never meet my grandchildren, I will never know whether they inherit Estel's eyes or Arwen's, I will never hold them or watch over them or tell them stories of their parents' youth. And I will tell Celebrían that Arwen is fated to be a mother but I will have no memories or images to share with her, just the vague impression of the Sight which foretells a son. And I will accept all this because it must be so. Are you satisfied now?" The last question could so easily have been snapped, but the way Elrond uttered it, it seemed simply wearily embittered.

It was at that moment that an issue Glorfindel had long been debating in his heart resolved into crystal clarity. Hearing Elrond's determination to do what he must despite the pain it caused him gave Glorfindel the resolve he needed to commit to his path as well. He hoped that his decision would ease Elrond's heart, but decided to wait until an opportune moment to announce it. Until then, he settled on replying to Elrond's last comment.

"Nay, I am devastated for you, friend. How could I be otherwise when the situation is as you have described? For you have drunk the bitter cup and accepted your fate as was necessary. I admire your courage in having done so but I would spare you this pain if I could."

"I know you would, and I am grateful. Know that if I sound angry, it is not directed towards you, but at the circumstances in which I find myself, however futile being thus angered may be."

"You are more than entitled to your anger. If it were me, we would be surrounded by shattered furniture right now."

Elrond raised an eyebrow. "I am aware of that, although I fail to see how destroying innocent furniture would improve the situation."

"Ahhh, but that's where you're wrong, old friend. You have not discovered the delights of that particular pastime, have you?"

"Well, clearly, since most of the fittings in my study are still Second Age and yours has seen three refits in the last five _yéni_."

"Come, you do not begrudge me a little vent from time to time, surely?" Glorfindel smirked but became serious again quickly. "And no-one would begrudge that to you either. Release your anger, grieve, do what you need to. This is a loss, after all, just like any other. I cannot comprehend how you are facing this so calmly."

Elrond responded with an unnerving composure, uttering one simple word that was enough to send shivers down Glorfindel's spine. It was not self-pitying or ironic. Elrond simply stated it as fact.

"Practice."

Glorfindel rallied himself quickly and said,

"Even so, you must still feel it keenly. You need not hold back for my sake."

Elrond turned to him with a weary shrug. "What is there to do, Glorfindel? My grandchildren will grow up and I will not be there. That is the way of it, and even if I rail and weep nothing will change."

"It might change things here," Glorfindel commented, gesturing towards his heart. He could see Elrond slipping into a resigned despair and concluded that perhaps announcing the decision he had just made might help matters. "And I'm not sure I quite agree about you not being there. True, you will not see them grow up. But that's not the same as not being there."

Elrond frowned. "I'm not sure I see the relevance of the distinction."

"You may not know them, Elrond, but they will know you. When they are healed by their Ada's careful hands, he will tell them who trained those hands to be so gentle. When they beg their Ammë for another of her wonderful songs, she will tell them who helped her to find her voice. When they learn the sword from their uncles, they will tell them who first taught them the meaning of courage. Do you honestly think that your sons and daughter will let your grandchildren grow up not knowing your name? No, you will be there, Elrond, and so will Celebrían, in everything that you have taught Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen and Estel to be and to do. And when the little ones grow old enough to understand, they will hear your story, the impossible life you have led, and they will know that they are loved by the _Daeradar_ they never met, and they will understand why you had to go."

Elrond closed his eyes for a moment, a sad smile playing around his lips. "That thought brings me much comfort."

"And furthermore," Glorfindel continued, "I will tell them of Imladris and its beauty. I will tell them how it became a haven and refuge for all manner of folk from across Arda, thanks to the just and merciful leadership of a lord as kind as summer. I will tell them of all the waifs and strays who came to enjoy the hospitality of the Last Homely House, including one random reincarnated part-Vanya whom you found washed up on a beach somewhere and then just couldn't get rid of."

Elrond's eyes widened a little in surprise, and he blinked a few times as he sifted through all this to find the crucial information being revealed. "Hold a moment! You mean to imply that you're not sailing?"

"Not yet," Glorfindel confirmed, smiling at Elrond's confusion. "I have been pondering where my duty lies, and where my heart is calling me. My service is to this house, and for a time I was torn between accompanying you over the sea and staying to watch over your children. Now, however, my path is clear to me."

He knelt in a demonstration of his fealty and looked up at Elrond with earnest eyes.

"My liege, my loyalty is yours, and if you are willing I offer you this service: I will watch over your children and grandchildren in your stead. I know that it cannot ease the pain of not doing so yourself, and I could never compare myself to the _daeradar_ they have in you. But I will guide and guard them with all my skill, and I will love them with all my heart. They will never want for a _daeradar_ 's love, for I will show them mine even as I tell them of yours."

"Glorfindel!" Elrond exclaimed as he reached down to pull his seneschal to his feet. "I cannot ask this of you!"

Glorfindel stubbornly remained on his knees and Elrond gave up trying to make him rise.

"That matters not, because I'm offering." He met Elrond's gaze steadily. "Please, my liege, accept my service for this is clearly where my duty lies." He gracefully rose to his feet and grasped Elrond's forearm. "Please, old friend, let me carry out this act of love. I truly wish to tarry in Arda a little longer, and I still intend to sail eventually. If your need for me to sail alongside you is greater than for this then I will do so. But do not reject this for my sake: the task of watching over your grandchildren will bring me only joy."

"Glorfindel…I hardly know what to say…"

"How about 'aye, please do so, my friend'?"

Elrond laughed, blinking back tears. "Then aye, please do so, my friend, with all my blessings and my deepest gratitude. That yet more of my descendants might benefit from your wise counsel and your joyful companionship is a grace unlooked-for and it will ease my heart to know that you are yet watching over my family."

"You are more than welcome. Although if your grandchildren are anything like your sons were when they were young, I shall be needing all the favours from the Valar you can beg for me. I seem to remember appealing to them several times a day throughout the twins' childhood."

"And did they intervene?"

"Most of the time, it went something along the lines of, 'please, any Valar that are listening, do not let Elladan be at the top of the waterfall. Do not tell me that Elladan is at the top of the waterfall, I am begging…Elladan is at the top of the waterfall. Manwë, you never told me you were sending me back for this!'"

Elrond laughed again, more heartily this time. "Are you sure you want to do this again, my friend?" he teased, but there was a serious undertone to the question.

"Absolutely sure," Glorfindel reassured him, with a broad smile, before shaking his head theatrically. "Although that I am willingly volunteering to have anything more to do with your offspring confirms what I have long suspected: I have finally succumbed to madness."

"Nay, I believe that happened about an Age ago," Elrond rejoindered, his head tilted in mock thoughtfulness. "A sane seneschal would have been entirely too boring."

"Indeed," Glorfindel chuckled in return. "Now I come to think of it that explains a lot!"

They grinned at each other for a moment, and Glorfindel went on,

"I will have so many things to tell them. And rest assured, I fully intend to take on a grandfather's duty of reassuring those poor children that their parents were not always paragons of perfection. Someone must take responsibility for telling those tales which Estel and Arwen are too embarrassed share, after all."

"Such as?" Elrond asked, eyes twinkling.

"Hmmm, perhaps the time when Arwen got stuck in a bramble patch and you were there for hours disentangling her hair because she wouldn't let anyone cut it."

Elrond's expression softened into fondness at the memory. "Of course. And you cannot forget the first time little Estel met Erestor…"

"When he crawled over to him, sat on his feet, and declared that he was 'mine', and thus accomplished the near impossible feat of rendering our dear renowned scholar speechless. Nay, old friend, that one is completely unforgettable!"

The two lords continued to reminisce for a while, reliving the joys of the past as a shield against the sorrows of the present, but eventually Glorfindel returned to solemnity.

"There is another story of Imladris which will remain truly unforgettable to me, and I would hope to share it with your grandchildren, if and only if you permit it."

Elrond sensed the change in tone immediately. "And what would that be, that you must seek permission so formally?"

"One day, when they are ready to understand, I wish to tell your grandchildren that their _daeradar_ loved them so much that on one misty autumn morning in Imladris he talked of risking everything just for the chance to hold them once."

Elrond froze. He gazed out into the gently swirling mists which were entwining themselves around the structures of Imladris as if in a lover's embrace. Very slowly, he shook his head.

"I would not wish to mar their youth with tales of such sadness."

"But sometimes, they are the tales that matter. And they will know that their _daeradar_ and their _daernaneth_ are happy and reunited in the West, and that both of you think of them and care about them very much. And they will know, without the detail, but enough, why you could not stay to meet them. I would wish them to know how much they were cherished even before they were born, how much you were willing to give just to let them know you loved them."

"Then…aye, you may tell them, at the right time, if you deem it fit." Elrond was visibly shaken, but he took a moment to calm himself and said, "Just- Glorfindel, this is lovely, the way you've been talking about it, but please, don't make me some ghostly presence overshadowing their lives. Don't speak of me in hushed reverential tones or make out that I was some kind of martyr or unreachable powerful lord. Every once in while, tell them a little of who I am, and that I love them immensely, and that will be more than enough."

He relaxed back into fond nostalgia again. "Tell them of the time a Ranger company arrived in Imladris earlier than expected to find me and twin elflings tumbling around on the forest floor, completely covered in mud. Tell them of the time I tried to out-drink Gandalf and we both ended up on the table singing Hobbit drinking songs."

Glorfindel laughed heartily. "Fear not, old friend. Those ones would have been told anyway, and now I have your permission I won't hold back!"

"I'm glad to hear it!" Elrond chuckled. "I should have known I could trust you to avoid hagiography and jump at the chance to sully my reputation."

"Not at all," Glorfindel grinned back. "I will simply tell it how it was."

"And that's all I could ever ask of you." Elrond's smile faltered a little. "I cannot thank you enough for what you offer to do, but you will be sorely missed in the West, my friend."

"Ah, worry not on that account, Elrond, you know that you can't shake me that easily. I'll find my way over there before you know it. And I hope to bring something with me that may ease your heart yet further."

"But you have given me so much already. I do not see how you could offer me a gift more wonderful than what you plan to do for my grandchildren."

"The gift I wish to give is the same which you yearned to carry to Celebrían," Glorfindel said in a low voice, holding Elrond's gaze. "I know it will not be the same as remembering yourself," he hastened to add, "but when I find my way back to Aman my gift to you and Celebrían will be the memories of your grandchildren and perhaps their descendants too, depending on when I leave. I will gather up the moments and the details and the mannerisms with the fervour of a dragon hoarding his gold, so that by the time I arrive I will have gathered stories enough to fill an eternity in the West in the telling of them. I will bring you back the memories that should have been yours and Celebrían's had fate been kinder. And I cannot promise this, for I will not force their choice, but if it is in my power, I will bring your boys back to you too."

This time it was Elrond who startled Glorfindel, practically collapsing against him in a fierce embrace before the seneschal had time to process what was happening. To Glorfindel's consternation, his friend and lord was trembling, seized by an emotion so powerful it was beyond even the consolation of tears. Glorfindel quickly collected himself enough to return the embrace and began to trace slow circles with his hand on Elrond's back.

"Glorfindel…I-" Elrond choked out, his usual eloquence deserting him in the midst of all he was feeling.

"Hush," Glorfindel soothed him affectionately. "No explanations are needed. I understand."

Elrond sighed gratefully and allowed himself to relax, shuddering, into Glorfindel's arms, remaining there for a few long moments until at last he was still.

Finally when he felt able to speak, Elrond tilted his head towards Glorfindel's ear.

"I know you do not tend to be particularly free with your embraces," Elrond whispered through the thick mane of golden hair, "I am sorry if I have made you uncomfortable by doing it twice in an hour. But this… this matters immensely. Thank you, my friend, for everything."

Glorfindel whispered back, "I suppose I can make an exception for today. And you are very welcome." Then he went on in a louder voice, still embracing his friend tightly, "When the time is right, I will tender this gift to you and that is a promise, Elrond. I do not abandon you, I hope you know that. So don't drink all the good wine before I get there."

Elrond gave a slightly shaky laugh. "Glorfindel! You give me a most precious gift in remaining here to watch over my family and in offering to bring me back the memories of them later. Of course I know you are not abandoning me!"

"You know that here," Glorfindel said softly, leaning forward to lightly touch his forehead to Elrond's. Then he gently placed his hand over Elrond's heart. "I just want to be sure you know it here too."

Elrond pulled away, shaking his head with a slightly exasperated smile, "I don't have a problem about people leaving me, you know."

Glorfindel simply smiled at him, murmuring indulgently, "Of course you don't."

Elrond tensed for a moment, bristling, as though he was going to protest Glorfindel's tone, which was proclaiming the exact opposite of his placating words. But he clearly thought the better of it, because after a few moments he relaxed his posture and said in a low voice,

"I don't. But nevertheless, when I get there I'll hunt down some Second Age vintage and save it for you, ready to celebrate your arrival whenever that may be."

 _And thus I will give myself a physical reminder that you are coming back, and you're not just the next in long series of soul-wrenching partings. So rest assured that I do have a way of handling this, do not concern yourself,_ was the implication that Elrond would never have voiced aloud, but that Glorfindel heard as loudly and clearly as if he had.

"Well, I'm certainly making it to Valinor now!" Glorfindel chuckled warmly, his expression glowing with his approval of Elrond's chosen method of dealing with their parting. "I _will_ come back with those memories and if they are willing, your sons. And we'll share that Second Age vintage and the stories and the songs and perhaps there will be healing for us all."

"Perhaps," Elrond said, but Glorfindel noted that his manner was the same as when he had voiced the idea of staying to meet his grandchildren: the pained expression and voice of one who knows he speaks only of a beautiful dream that will soon be shattered by harsh reality. Glorfindel couldn't blame Elrond for not really believing in the possibility of his own healing, though. He just hoped fervently that the Undying Lands would prove him wrong.

"Come, despair not. You ought to begin your practice for when you go West. You can imagine what Celebrían will say if she sees you drowning yourself in gloom like this."

"Probably something about how I am a most contrary, contradictory ellon, and she wonders whether I indulge my bouts of melancholy simply because I enjoy the paradox of the child of a star wallowing in his dark moods."

"See? She won't let you languish in your melancholy, Elrond, if I know your Cel. Best get used to that little thing called hope again now."

Elrond averted his gaze abruptly and stared out towards the mists again. Glorfindel felt the palpable tension in the air and tried to work out what he'd said wrong. Elrond was silent for so long that Glorfindel wondered if that would be the end of their conversation. But he finally spoke, and when he did, his voice was small, lost-sounding as Glorfindel had never heard it before.

"But will my Cel be there?"

"Of course she will," Glorfindel replied, his voice gentle and reassuring despite his inward panic that his friend could doubt even this. "She sailed West and she's waiting for you. You know that, Elrond."

"No, no you don't understand. Not Celebrían. _My Cel._ "

The truth of it hit Glorfindel with all the force of a Balrog's whip. Of course Elrond was not worried about whether an elleth named Celebrían would be there in the harbour awaiting him. He was worried about whether that elleth had found herself again after her torment, whether his Cel, his starlight warrior, his love would be greeting him, or whether he would find the unresponsive, shattered shell of an elleth who had left the Grey Havens all those years ago. And suddenly Elrond's desire to sail later made a lot more sense, although Elrond himself would probably not admit to his own motivations. He wanted to delay his sailing because of his sorrow at who he left behind; and also because of his fear of who might greet him. Whilst Glorfindel was reeling with this knowledge, Elrond continued in a horrified whisper.

"She was so deeply lost, 'Fin. So ensnared in all those dark poisonous shadows. What if-"

He broke off, staring into space again, clearly attempting to master himself and bring his emotions under control. Rather impressively, he managed it, and his voice was clear, though the dread in it was audible, as he asked the awful question and thus confessed his deepest fear.

"What if the West wasn't enough?"

Glorfindel waited a moment before responding, giving the heart-wrenching confession time to resound through the atmosphere.

"For what it's worth," he said at last, "Remember that I have seen Aman. Nothing quite compares to the land touched by the light of the Two Trees. The very air nourishes your spirit, and the whole place is alive with growing things; it is like Imladris in your sweetest dreams of the very best that it could be. I am persuaded that in that incomparable place, your Cel would have realised that she was safe again and blossomed once more into who she was meant to be."

" _Elbereth,_ please, I hope that is the case."

"As do I. But hear me when I say this, Elrond. I believe the West is enough to heal her. But even in the unlikely event that it isn't, you are."

Glorfindel held up a hand to silence the inevitable protests about Elrond's inability to heal her all those years ago.

"I know what you're going to say, old friend, and I'm telling you now, don't say it, just listen. _You and Cel, together, are enough._ I've been there from the beginning, remember? I've seen all the obstacles that crumbled before you. You fell in love in the middle of a war, not only survived it but helped to win it, married and negotiated around having a mind-reading mother-in-law who has deep issues with your Fëanorian fostering. Then you went on to create a refuge open to anyone from any number of feuding factions and races and managed not only to prevent open bloodshed, but to make it work, and work gloriously at that. Your political skill created the sanctuary of Imladris, and your love created the Last Homely House. You raised three children of your bodies, noble and wonderful elves I am proud to call my friends, alongside countless children of your hearts, all of whom flourished under your care. Taking all that into account, all you have accomplished and the trials you have faced, the only possible conclusion is that you and Cel, together, are simply unstoppable."

As opposed to soothing his distress, this litany of praise seemed to have the opposite effect, and Elrond became more and more agitated as he listened. As Glorfindel concluded, Elrond burst out,

"Yes, we were unstoppable, until I completely and utterly failed her! Failed as a lord to send the appropriate escort, failed as a warrior to protect the one dearest to my heart, failed as a healer to mend what ailed her and failed as a husband to love her enough that she could find herself again!"

" _Elrond,"_ Glorfindel sighed in frustration, although he admitted to himself that he really should have expected this. "I told you not to say it."

"Because you think me too weak to face up to the truth of my mistakes?" Elrond replied acerbically. Glorfindel concentrated hard on remaining calm and did not rise to his tone.

"Nay," he responded carefully. "Because I know you are wiser than that, wise enough to see that what happened cannot in any way be considered your fault, wise enough to separate your justified sorrow and anger at what befell her from futile self-condemnation, wise enough to know that your Cel would give you the scolding of the Age if she heard what you were saying about yourself."

Elrond had turned his face away, breathing hard, and rather uncharacteristically addressed the floor as he replied, blushing a little, "Aye. She would at that."

" _Exactly._ And what's more, how many times in your work as a healer have you seen elves tormented thus whose _fëa_ chose to flee rather than face what had been done to them?"

"Far, far too many," Elrond replied in a voice thickly laced with sorrow.

"Indeed. So you have already seen your wife display incredible strength simply by living through what she did. And she poured all her considerable strength into surviving and facing down that pain because she had a very good reason for doing so. And surely you know what that reason was?"

"My Cel wouldn't go down without a fight," Elrond said, turning back to Glorfindel with fierce pride practically radiating off him in waves.

"Well, there is that," Glorfindel conceded, "you match each other for stubbornness, that's for certain. But she had an even better reason. _You._ Your love, far from being deficient, was what gave her the will to carry on through her ordeal. You loved her enough to save her life, and then enough to let her go. And that, incidentally, was not a defeat. It was a change in tactics, and indeed it was a victory. You proved your love to her a million times over in those months after her rescue, not least when you helped her to leave the Grey Havens to find peace, despite the pain that parting caused you. However little she seemed to respond at the time, I am convinced that somewhere in the midst of her darkness, she knew she was loved. You made that nigh on impossible to miss. And that is why I believe that in the safety of the West, she will already have conquered those shadows because they could not stand in the face of the light of the love you shared. And even if she hasn't yet, she will, once you are at her side to remind her what she's fighting for. Even if she is still lost, your Cel is never going to stop searching to find her way back to you; just as you are never going to give up on her. Whatever awaits you and your wife on those shores, it may not be easy, but I don't just believe, I _know_ that you will face it together, courageously, and you will triumph. I will say it as many times as you need to hear it: _You and Cel, together, are enough._ For anything."

Elrond simply stared at him, amazement etched into every contour of his expression. "I don't understand how you can have such faith," he breathed.

"Because I know who I believe in, that's how," Glorfindel smiled back.

"Better than I know myself, at times."

"You know yourself better than you give yourself credit for, Elrond, you just need the occasional reminder, that's all."

"I am going to miss your occasional reminders so very much, Glorfindel."

"Nay, you won't need to. I will happily turn over the responsibility of reminding you who you are on occasion to Celebrían. I strongly suspect she is waiting impatiently in the West, itching to take that role back from me. I was only ever her humble apprentice in that, after all."

Elrond shook his head slowly. "You astonish me, sometimes. You are fairly overflowing with confidence, while I find myself sorely lacking in it. Perhaps I will have to beg some of yours when mine fails."

"You are welcome to it," Glorfindel smiled, "I can have faith enough for two."

The mists were creeping closer now, threatening to envelop the two elf lords where they stood conversing on the balcony, and Elrond pulled his robe a little tighter around him. The movement was graceful, in keeping with Elrond's usual stately demeanour, but still his ability to feel the chill was a disquieting sign of the mortal side of his heritage. These signs had been growing more frequent lately, and Glorfindel shivered at the sight of it, and not because of the cold. He was about to suggest that they return inside to the fire and was working out how to word it in a way that would not incite Elrond to stay outside just to prove he could, when the latter turned to him and began to speak.

"Perhaps, then," he said slowly, as if talking through something he was still working out, "If you have hope that she'll be there waiting, then I can hope for that too. Perhaps she'll be waiting there, ready with that quicksilver laugh and incisive wit, ready to debate all the decisions I made in her absence and tell me how I could have done it better."

Glorfindel beamed.

"I do believe she will be. And not least when you tell her how you dealt with the Ring situation."

As Glorfindel had hoped, this time his attempt to lighten the mood was successful and Elrond adopted a mock-horrified tone.

"Dear Valar, she's going to slay me."

Glorfindel chuckled. "I want a blow-by-blow account of how she reacts when I arrive in the West."

"You don't need to wait, I can imagine it now. 'So, let me clarify this, my dear husband. You had Glorfindel, Erestor, the Imladris guard, the entire Grey Company, and probably the warriors of Eryn Galen and Lothlorien if you wanted them, all at your disposal. You had the most dangerous weapon ever created. You decided it needed to be sent into the heart of enemy territory. And so…you sent it with four untrained hobbits, an Elf and Dwarf with family grudges _on top of_ the usual hatred, the heir to Gondor's Stewardship and its long-lost returning King. And. Mithrandir. 'A-wizard-is-never-late-he-always-arrives-precisely-when-he-means-to' Mithrandir.' And then, she'll just _look_ at me…"

"Ah, I remember that look. That _why, Valar, am I the only one within ten leagues with any sense?_ look. The one we decided she learned from Galadriel?"

"Aye, that one. And even though I had perfectly solid reasoning for all the choices I made, which I explained to you when we had that same conversation, suddenly it will all melt out of my brain and the only thing I can think to say will be…"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," they chorused together, both of their eyes alight with the memories of exactly what Celebrían had thought of that particular phrase.

"Give it a couple of _yéni,"_ Glorfindel went on cheerfully, "and we will find ourselves in Valinor, hanging our heads like scolded elflings before Celebrían at her most Seriously Unimpressed, trying to explain that our really very reasonable plan 'seemed like a good idea at the time.'"

"Is that a prophecy, Glorfindel?" Elrond asked, his voice walking on a strange fragile tightrope between light-heartedness and vulnerability.

"Nay, it's stronger than a prophecy. It's a hope," Glorfindel responded, serious now. "And we have trusted to a much slimmer hope before, and rightly so."

"And so," Elrond began, the resolve that had carried him through since the First Age becoming more evident in his gaze and stance now, "I shall hope that borrowed hope until my own grows stronger. And until then, I have preparations to make for our last Winter Festival here. I'm sure Cel will be disappointed if she hears that I didn't give Imladris a proper goodbye from us both."

"And we both know the perils of disappointing Celebrían, so let us get on with avoiding that situation by going over the Festival plans over some warm spiced wine, shall we?"

"That would be wise," Elrond agreed, with a wry quirk of the eyebrow that told him Elrond knew that Glorfindel had seen his shivers, but he wasn't going to mention it if Glorfindel didn't.

He made to follow his seneschal into his study, but hesitated on the threshold and said, "Glorfindel-"

Glorfindel looked back, and saw Elrond's frustration immediately: he was always most uncomfortable in the rare situations, usually involving his own emotions, where he couldn't quite untangle what to say, and this was clearly one of those times. So, resigning himself to the inevitable, Glorfindel opened his arms, stepped towards Elrond and said, grinning,

"Come on then. Might as well make it a record."

Elrond gave a stifled laugh and gratefully accepted the hug, and they remained there for a while, letting that brotherly embrace say all those things that Elrond hadn't been able to articulate. Eventually he murmured as they broke apart,

"Cel would be proud of you, 'Fin, you know that?"

Glorfindel hummed noncommittally. "She _is_ prouder of _you_ , Elrond, and you better believe it."

And so they entered the warmth of the study side-by-side, ready to begin Elrond's long goodbye to the Last Homely House, to Arda, to those he knew and loved and to those he loved but would never know. But this was the journey that would bring him home to the one who had fought horrific torment for his sake, to his Cel, wherever she was waiting for him. And as for the first time he really accepted that he was going West and everything that entailed, he smiled at the friend he would leave behind, the friend who always had faith enough for two, and said,

"Now, perhaps I can."


End file.
